


Take Care of Business For Me

by Greyland94



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, But it's okay, Dirty Talk, First Time, Hair-pulling, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, kind of sub Napoleon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyland94/pseuds/Greyland94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>okay so I saw this headcanon (http://the-man-from-uncle.tumblr.com/post/126918956535) and I got inspired.</p><p>Basically, Illya kicks some ass and Napoleon is scared, impressed, and turned on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Care of Business For Me

The car ride back to the hotel crackled with silent energy, the two men still filled with adrenaline from an altercation they’d just had; their cover had been broken, and in the fight that followed, Illya (his hands having been bound behind his back in preparation for interrogation) had broken a man’s neck with his powerful thighs in order to rescue Napoleon and escape the building. This show of agility and strength had left Napoleon equal parts terrified, amazed, and more than a little aroused since it had happened.

Napoleon cleared his throat, breaking the silence and making Illya jump slightly. “I, uh… I didn’t know you could break a man’s neck with just your thighs, Peril.” Napoleon cringed inwardly at how rough his voice sounded- he prided himself on the cool, collected exterior he maintained at all times and was thrown off at how suddenly arousal could reveal his hand.

Illya shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “We learn all sorts of things in the KGB.”

Napoleon loosened his collar and shifted subtly in his seat. All he could think of was what else those strong thighs could be used for, thrown over his shoulders so he could swallow his partner’s cock. He turned his face to the passenger side window, pressing his hot forehead against the glass in an attempt to calm down. He wasn’t used to losing his cool over something like this.

The rest of the ride to the hotel passed fairly uneventfully, and they arrived just past midnight. The two men crossed the empty lobby, stepped into the elevator, and Illya silently pushed the button for their floor.

“Solo… why are you looking at me like that?”

Napoleon started and made eye contact with the Russian. “Like what?”

“Like you are starving and I am dessert buffet.”

Napoleon licked his lips involuntarily, noting how Illya’s eyes followed the movement.

They exited the elevator, Napoleon leading them to the door of their room and fishing the key out of his pocket, Illya crowding him closely behind the minute they were inside.

Illya lowered his head so his lips traced the outside of Napoleon’s ear, sending a shiver down the shorter man’s spine. Then, he whispered:

“Why don’t you show me what you’re so hungry for, Cowboy.”

Napoleon turned and pulled Illya down into a scorching kiss, letting out a small moan as the Russian licked into his mouth and nipped his lips gently. Illya turned them and pressed Napoleon against the door, his large hand snaking between them to palm the other man’s erection through his trousers while he dragged his teeth down the sensitive side of Napoleon’s neck. Solo threw his head back, gasping at the onslaught of pleasurable sensations.

“I want to see you ruin these fine trousers,” said Illya, his deep voice rough and guttural. Napoleon shuddered and moaned beneath him, at a loss for words for one of the few times in his life.

The two spies peeled off the door and moved across the room, shedding their shirts and shoes as the went, until the back of Illya’s legs hit the edge of the bed and he sat down, knees parted. Napoleon knelt in front of him, sliding his hands up Illya’s inner thighs and watching as the man above him bit his lip and flushed at the feeling.

Napoleon undid Illya’s trousers and brought his face closer between his legs, nuzzling and pressing damp, open-mouthed kisses through his underwear, the Russian letting out a hiss at the contact. Then, he pulled down his waistband, just enough to reach in and pull out the other man’s prominent erection.

Illya’s toes curled into the carpet, his eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a strangled gasp as Napoleon flattened his tongue and slowly dragged it from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Napoleon, I will not beg, but the time for teasing is over,” growled the Russian through clenched teeth, his hands tightly clutching fistfuls of the sheets underneath him while Napoleon, with one hand circling the base, sucked on the head of his cock in a way that was maddeningly not enough.

Though he would have loved to draw out his exquisite torture for a moment longer, just to see what other noises he could coax out of the larger man, Napoleon had to agree with him. He smiled predatorily before sinking as much of Illya’s considerable length into the wet heat of his mouth as he could. Illya shuddered and choked out a string of curses, none of which were in English. One hand flew up from it’s tight grip of the sheets to the top of Napoleon’s head, tangling his long fingers in his soft, dark locks and tugging gently.

Napoleon began to move his head up and down, moaning softly through his nose at the sensation of Illya’s hand gripping his hair, while the taller man struggled to breathe, letting out deep, rumbling moans at the feel of Napoleon’s tongue working the underside of his cock.

“Ohh god I wish I’d thought of this way to shut you up long ago…” Napoleon’s free hand splayed out over Illya’s hip while each bob of his head took him further and further down Illya’s length.

“Take it, Napoleon… ahh… you suck cock like a slut…” panted Illya, giving a short tug to Napoleon’s hair. Napoleon faltered for just a moment, flushing pink and letting out a whimper around a mouthful of Illya as his mind briefly short circuited. Illya sat up on his elbows, astounded. “Napoleon, look at- oh fuck, yes, like that- look at me.”

Napoleon looked up, meeting Illya’s eyes as he hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head. Illya groaned at the sight- the American’s face was flushed, and his pupils were dilated so that his eyes were almost pure black against a thin ring of piercing blue.

“You like it when I pull your hair?” Illya’s grip tightened in Solo’s hair.

Napoleon moaned, sending vibrations through Illya’s cock that made it increasingly hard for him to control the movement of his hips.

“You like it when I talk to you like that? When I call you a dirty cocksucker?”

Napoleon flushed even darker and whined his enthusiastic agreement, his wide eyes still locked on Illya’s face, and his mouth still moving on Illya’s cock.

Illya cursed in Russian as he felt his orgasm kindle in the base of his spine. Between the filthy, wet noises coming from Napoleon’s exceptional work, the pleasant discovery of Napoleon’s secret kinks, and the sensation of the head of his cock meeting the back of Solo’s throat, it wasn’t long before he came, hard, with a sustained, breathy groan that made Napoleon’s eyes roll back.

Napoleon swallowed, opened his eyes and sat back on his heels, breathing heavily. His hair was tousled beyond recognition, his face and chest were flushed, his lips were wet, swollen, and red, and he was rock hard, his erection tenting the front of his trousers. Illya observed him with a wolfish grin.

“I meant what I said, Cowboy.” Illya slid forward off the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of Napoleon.

Napoleon looked up at Illya, puzzled.

Illya pounced, turning Napoleon so his body was plastered against the Russian’s front. He then pushed his hand into Napoleon’s trousers, grasping his cock. Illya’s free hand slid into Napoleon’s hair, grabbing a handful. The American stifled a shout and his hips jerked forward.

Illya growled into his ear. “I want you to ruin those fine trousers. I want you to come in your pants.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! As always, I would appreciate comments and any feedback you might have- please let me know if there are any glaring errors so I can take care of them.
> 
> The title of this fic comes from Nina Simone's Take Care of Business, which I believe plays during the end credits of the film. Please just listen to the whole soundtrack, it's flawless.


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